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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274394">Courtship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonrubberducky/pseuds/demonrubberducky'>demonrubberducky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stand Still Stay Silent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Slow Build</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:01:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,930</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonrubberducky/pseuds/demonrubberducky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[Spoilers through Adventure 2, Chapter 9]</p>
<p>Lalli and Emil's friendship grows slowly, and it's impossible for the rest of the crew to miss it. A series of moments through the two adventures, and Lalli &amp; Emil's relationship through the eyes of the rest of the party.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lalli Hotakainen/Emil Västerström</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Courtship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Tuuri</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>“I will learn a few words,” Lalli declares, apropos of nothing. Tuuri hadn’t even realized he’d woken up from his nap, curled up in a spare jacket on the chair beside her as she drives. </p>
<p>“Oh?”</p>
<p>She sees movement in the fabric and furs out of the corner of her eyes, but she has to keep her eyes on the road (and she wants her cousin to talk to her, not just nod). After a moment, Lalli realizes, and lets out a little huff of breath.</p>
<p>“Yes.” A pause, then he adds. “Scouting words only.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Lalli’s pride is a shape that only he fully knows; some things that would burn Tuuri up inside roll off of him like water on weather-treated cloaks, and she can never quite pinpoint beforehand what will actually get through to him. He is bizarrely unaffected by the opinions of others, except when it comes to his job. Of course he wants her to know (wants her to <i>think</i>) that this request is purely professional.</p>
<p>She can feel his eyes boring into the side of her face, unblinking and intense. It stopped unnerving her years ago, and she lets him stew while she navigates them around a tricky set of mounds and drainage ditches. She’s been trying to get him to learn a second language for <i>years</i>, and he’s never listened to her about how important it could be until now. She’s allowed to gloat a little.</p>
<p>When the cat tank is back on smooth ground, she hazards a glance over to the eyes staring out of the coat-blanket.</p>
<p>“Alright. In Icelandic-"</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>The coat shuffles around unhappily, and Lalli’s head and one spindly arm emerge. </p>
<p>“Swedish.”</p>
<p>Tuuri’s eyes flick from the road to her cousin, but he’s quickly turned to look out the side window.</p>
<p>“Alright.” Tuuri’s lips twitch into a smile. The kind like when a cat finds the cream. “You know, everyone would be able to understand you better if I teach you <i>Norwegian</i>. I think I’ve picked up enough of the differences…”</p>
<p>“No.” There’s more unhappy movement beside her. Sulking. If Lalli had a cat’s tail, it would be lashing in annoyance.</p>
<p>Tuuri lets out a chuckle. Ah. So maybe Emil’s gradually closer porridge-eating hasn’t gone unnoticed, huh?</p>
<p>“Fine, fine. Swedish only. Let’s start with the most important… ‘danger’.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Their lessons are sporadic; between their mission duties and Lalli’s sleep schedule, they have little time to themselves to practice, and Lalli steadfastly refuses if any of the crew might overhear. So maybe his pride isn’t <i>completely</i> tied up in his job. But they find some time, on long drives when Lalli isn’t passed out, or over a meal if the other members of the team are away gathering supplies and books. (Reynir, Lalli has no problem chasing away with a glare or a hiss, and Tuuri can only smile apologetically and promise him a game of cards once Lalli curls up to sleep for the day.)</p>
<p>Tuuri occasionally tosses in some words in Icelandic or Norwegian, which Lalli stubbornly refuses to repeat back to her. He stops and glares until she produces the Swedish version. They start with scouting words, focusing on key vocabulary and choosing not to fight the battle against a foreign grammar. Lalli will may never be fluent, but he doesn’t care about a smooth conversation. With her tutelage, he will be able to convey his message in a pinch. And, well, if he has something more complex to say? She’ll be there to translate.</p>
<p>Once the very basics have been covered, she moves on to anything else she thinks might serve him well. “I don’t understand.” “This tastes horrible.” Things like that. Their latest lesson stops when Lalli’s head perks up and turns. In the distance, Tuuri sees three silhouettes, two tall and one short. Sigrun is making animated motions with her uninjured arm, but it doesn’t seem urgent. Not waving for them to flee, just recanting some epic tale to her companions to fill the walk home.</p>
<p>Out of the corner of her eye, Tuuri watches Lalli assess them. ‘All accounted for. Not injured, not pursued.’ Satisfied, he stands and heads for the door. She knows he’ll be asleep before they reach the tank; it’s his right as night scout, and also his way of avoiding getting drafted for sorting, decontaminating, or any other chore not related to his work as a scout or a mage. (“That is what the useless braid-boy is for,” he told her once when she tried to poke him away to help with a particularly big haul of books.)</p>
<p>“Lalli, one more phrase,” she calls over her shoulder as he retreats. He pauses at the door. </p>
<p>“This one means, ‘I like your hair’.” She calls out the phrase as Lalli ducks through the door, and a second later, a rolled-up pair of socks come sailing out and hit her in the cheek. She cackles. It’s a sister’s job to tease, and since Lalli doesn’t have a sister, a cousin will have to do.</p>
<p>And she knows he’s not <i>truly</i> mad, because when she pops into the tank to put the socks away, she hears his voice from under her bunk, quietly repeating the syllables to commit them to memory.</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">The Crew: Reynir and Mikkel</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Mikkel hopes, really hopes, that nobody claims he isn’t a patient man. He deals with surly scouts, puffed-up cleansers, disgruntled brothers on the radio, and an impulsive captain that won’t let him get a word in edgewise. (Tuuri is fine. He likes working with Tuuri.)</p>
<p>And then there is their stowaway. Apologetic to a fault, in possession of no special skills that might prove of use, and prone to hovering around when he’s nervous. Mikkel is trying to cook, and the rest of the crew complain enough about his food when he isn’t being distracted.</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>“So, umm, plants can’t carry infection, can they?” </p>
<p>Mikkel looks up to the heavens. He’d probably save himself time in the long run if he just sat the boy down and gave him a lecture on the few things that <i>can</i> spread the infection, rather than enduring constant fearful questions about whether this thing or that could mean exposure. </p>
<p>“Did you lick the plants?”</p>
<p>“…no?” Reynir is hunched over, giving one of his sad puppy looks.</p>
<p>“Then no. You are fine.”</p>
<p>The boy immediately brightens up. “Oh, good!” No longer worried that he might be dying, he falls in beside Mikkel and starts messing around with the food preparation. Mikkel doesn’t have the heart to shoo him away just yet. At least <i>someone</i> is willing to help with all the thankless tasks that keep their tank running.</p>
<p>“Why do you ask?” </p>
<p>Reynir stops butchering a carrot. “Oh. Right. I found a berry in my bed this morning. I didn’t pick it up, in case, but I could have accidentally touched it during the night. Where did it even come from?”</p>
<p>Mikkel snorts. Reynir’s mattress was laid out on the floor beneath Emil’s last night, wasn’t it? </p>
<p>“That? Don’t worry. It is just the…” he struggles for a suitable word in Icelandic. “The courtship.”</p>
<p>“The <i>what</i>?” Reynir’s eyes go wide, all worry about death and disease washed away by the promise of hot gossip. He leans closer, his entire body radiating ‘<b>I must know more</b>’. Mikkel weighs whether or not to let the boy in on his and Sigrun’s little game.</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">The Party: Sigrun and Mikkel</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>‘Spot the Courtship’ is the game Mikkel and Sigrun play when the children have all gone to bed and all relevant discussions of the mission have been concluded. It started a little after Emil first began taking his meals in Lalli’s general direction, and has grown into a full-grown competition between them.</p>
<p>“…yes, our little scout left berries on his pillow. Must’ve been when he came in this morning, the rest we all still asleep. One fell on our stowaway, and when I checked, it was the same kind that Lalli gathered for the food supply.”</p>
<p>It’s a good thing they’ve taken their discussion out of the tank, because Sigrun’s belly laugh would’ve woken at least half of the children. (Not Tuuri, she could sleep through anything, as they’ve all learned.)</p>
<p>“Well, I’ve got that beat! Yesterday, when we were looking through that private collector’s house, Emil found some old bayonet and asked me if I thought it might fit on a hunting rifle. As if I didn’t know exactly who he wanted to give it to! He looked like he might cry when I told him it was too rusted to be worth saving.”</p>
<p>They go back and forth like this, sharing what they’ve observed, each trying to one-up the other. ‘Emil nearly wore a hole in the floor pacing around when Lalli came back late from scouting yesterday morning.’ ‘Reynir said something that made Emil frown, and I thought the little pipsqueak was going to bite him!’</p>
<p>“You know, half the time, I think they don’t realize we have eyes.” Sigrun shakes her head, snorting.</p>
<p>“Half the time, I don’t think they even realize they are doing it.” It’s been a long time since Mikkel was that young and dumb, but he can recall a little of the experience. </p>
<p>“Probably not,” Sigrun agrees. There’s mischief in her eyes. “Shall we make a bet on how long it takes them to figure it out? Loser buys dinner when we get back to civilization!”</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Reynir</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>It’s the nights of their month-long quarantine that Reynir feels Tuuri’s loss most heavily. He’s bunked next to Sigrun, who can barely understand him, so there’s not much conversation, but during the day, he can read, or watch Sigrun and Mikkel cheat at Battleship, or studying the comings and goings of the ship’s crew. His brother stops by when he is allowed, which is hardly ever and for less than five minutes when he manages it, but it helps, knowing that he’s there.</p>
<p>But at night, without those distractions, he remembers a round face and a fuzzy head that he’ll never see again, a cheerful voice and an enthusiastic, sometimes mischievous smile that had made him feel welcome in the tank. He can tell Sigrun suffers too in the quarantine cabin beside him. In the dark, he sees her toss and turn in bed, hears the pants and whimpers of her nightmares. And each morning, the captain’s brave face is fixed back into place, and she reads, and chats with Mikkel, and cheats shamelessly at their little games. He’d never know, if he wasn’t sleeping in a bunk adjacent to hers.</p>
<p>Between Sigrun and his own crushing thoughts, it’s hard to sleep. But when he does, he’s relieved to find himself dreaming. </p>
<p>In dreams, he can roam the fields of the dreamspace, play with his dog, run freely the way the ship’s protocol doesn’t allow his waking form. He looks for Onni, but doesn’t find him in his usual space. Hidden, or awake. Maybe Tuuri’s loss has left him sleepless as well.</p>
<p>So Reynir continues on, over the dream-seas, along the now-familiar path that should lead him to a pond in the forest where Lalli’s raft floats. </p>
<p>Instead, he ends up on a dock. Lalli looks up from his fishing rod, and there’s a moment between when he realizes there’s an intruder and when he identifies Reynir before the scowl appears. Huh. Expecting someone else?</p>
<p>“Get out!” Lalli howls.<br/>---<br/>Reynir wishes he could ask Tuuri why Lalli hates him so. He had asked her, but he’d never gotten an answer to his satisfaction. The first time, she’d just hemmed and hawed and reassured him that Lalli didn’t <i>hate</i> him, he just didn’t like anyone. </p>
<p>He’d accepted that until he’d seen Emil give Lalli a pat on the shoulder and come away unscathed. Reynir tried, and nearly lost a finger.</p>
<p>“No, he definitely hates me. What did I do? How do I fix it?” He’d kept up the puppy-dog eyes until Tuuri had finally sighed and promised to ask.</p>
<p>The next day, all she’d had to say was, “He said something about you trespassing. Really, I don’t know why you’re so worried. That’s just how Lalli is.”<br/>---<br/>So, now, in hindsight, herealizes that maybe <i>this</i> might be part of the issue. These Hotakainen men, so picky about their dream spaces. But really, if Lalli didn’t want Reynir to check on him here, he shouldn’t hide under his bunk all day where Reynir can barely see him.</p>
<p>Lalli hisses at him. Well, that’s nothing Reynir isn’t used to by now, so he takes a second to look around. A fishing rod has appeared in his hand.</p>
<p>“This is new. Huh. Two rods. Were you expecting someone?”</p>
<p>Lalli must have, because Reynir has no inclination to fish. He can’t imagine that he would’ve dreamed up the rod for himself. </p>
<p>“Leave. NOW.” Lalli’s eyes flick from Reynir to the forest beyond the dock… like he does actually expect someone else to show up. Interesting.</p>
<p>“I don’t think he’s asleep yet,” Reynir offers. He really is trying to extend an olive branch. “But I could go check again. I’ll see if I can bring him here.</p>
<p>Lalli’s scowl falters. It turns to suspicion after a heartbeat. “How do <i>you</i> know where his dreamspace is?”</p>
<p>Reynir blinks at Lalli. The Finn is a mage, he should be more lucid in his dreams!</p>
<p>“Because I’ve been there, of course. I checked his place before I came to look for you. I didn’t see him, though. Not even a trace of his feathers.”</p>
<p>Lalli’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “…feathers?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Onni turns into an owl sometimes, didn’t you know? It’s his… his luunto?”</p>
<p>“Luonto,” Lalli corrects reflexively. Then he straightens up, scowl returning, and bonks Reynir on the head with the fishing rod. The dream dock vanishes, and Reynir is forced back in his own dreamspace.<br/>---<br/>Weeks later, on the hunt to track down Onni, they find a boat. “Not Onni. Onni hates fishing.” Mikkel translates from Sigrun, who translated it from Emil, who translated it from Lalli. </p>
<p>Reynir’s eyes widen, and he slaps a hand over his masked mouth to keep from gasping. Onni hates fishing! Oh!! But he knows someone who Lalli has fished with before.<br/>The crew heads up the dock, but Reynir snags Mikkel’s sleeve and stops him, grinning beneath his mask. Finally, he has something to contribute to Mikkel’s game.</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Sigrun</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>“Translator!” Sigrun calls, beckoning Emil to join her. She points to a Finnish sign. “Which way do we go from here?”</p>
<p>Emil’s cheeks puff up, and he frowns over the sign. “I dunno. I told you, you’re vastly overestimating my abilities. Why didn’t you ask Lalli to come along? He learned a lot more Scandinavian than you think. You just have to speak slowly and clearly.”</p>
<p>Sigrun raises an eyebrow. “Yes, that he may, but he can’t tell me what I need to know, can he?” She somehow doubts her words would get across to the scout nearly as efficiently as Emil’s do, much less that she could make sense of the garbled Swedish answers she’d get in return.</p>
<p>She unfolds the map, and squints at the lines drawn on it. “Is that this? It’s all gibberish to me.”</p>
<p>“He’s a lot smarter than you think he is,” Emil grumbles, taking the map and comparing the tiny labels on it to the signage on the street. Offended on his friend’s behalf, and not afraid to say it. There’s a reason Sigrun likes the little Swede so much.</p>
<p>“Did you know he only got to do two years of school, before he got pulled out for his scout training?” Oh, he’s really getting himself worked up. Sigrun makes a questioning grunt, and Emil’s frown deepens as he struggles with the Finnish directions they are working with. “The fact that he’s able to do all he has shows you just how clever he is.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” Sigrun agrees, following after Emil as he begins stomping off in the direction he’s decided is the right one. </p>
<p>“He’s loads smarter than some of the people I met in public school, and they’d had years more classes than him.” Even his hair is beginning to look puffed up like an angry bird. </p>
<p>She could try to calm him down, but a warrior needs to let his passion rise now and again, and besides, it’s entertaining. Time to stoke the fires just a little.</p>
<p>“Oh, you don’t have to extoll his virtues. I am thinking of putting our tiny scout in my pocket and taking him back to Norway when this is over. He could be very useful in my troop back home.” </p>
<p>Emil stops, turning stiffly with a rigid spine. He looks up into Sigrun’s smirking face with a fierce determination.</p>
<p>“He’s not going to Norway. Who’d want to go there? Sweden is way better! He’s coming with me, and I’m going to teach him to be a cleanser.” He’s all but pouting and crossing his arms, and Sigrun would cackle if she wasn’t so professional.</p>
<p>Ok, she chuckles a little. “Oh, really? Then it’s a good thing he’s so clever at learning Swedish. I’m sure you’ll burn down many fine buildings together.”<br/>Emil’s cheeks look a little red, but he holds his head up high and smooths out his hair. “I’m sure he will.”</p>
<p>He turns back to their path, but pauses to turn over his shoulder and say, “Besides, I heard you’re taking Mikkel home with you. He’s all you’re going to be able to carry.”</p>
<p>Sigrun does cackle at that. Her right-hand warrior, learning to fight back, eh? That must be her brilliant influence! She’ll drag them <i>all</i> back to Norway to join her troop, and by this time next year, there won’t be a troll left in the country!</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Mikkel</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>It’s a familiar tactic, one he remembers himself and his siblings use against their parents as a child. If you’re not sure you’ll get the thing you want, ask for something bigger first, to make the request that matters seem more reasonable.</p>
<p>Emil holds up a dartboard, an old board game, both ridiculous finds, before presenting his real prizes, the little puzzle cube and the cards. </p>
<p>“You may bring anything you want as long as you carry it yourself.” When he gets home, he is going to apologize to his parents for all the suffering he caused them. He understands now. </p>
<p>The board games don’t make it back to camp with them in the mad scramble to escape the kalma, but the little cube-toy does. Mikkel hears Emil chattering on about it to Lalli as they scrub themselves clean in the river. Some old world toy that only the cleverest could solve, he learned all about it from his tutors, what a find! Mikkel only gives it half an ear. He has laundry to do, and food to make, and he needs to brag to Sigrun more about how successful their supply run was.</p>
<p>Of course, he’s not surprised in the least that in the morning, the cube has made its way to Lalli’s hands. Also unsurprising is how pleased Emil looks whenever he glances over and sees it in the scout’s hands. <i>Children</i>. </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Tuuri (Again)</span>
  </b>
</p>
<p>Being a bird spirit isn’t that bad, all things considered. She can fly freely without fear of infection. She’d known since childhood that she wanted to travel and see the rest of the world. She hadn’t realized how badly she had wanted to see her old home. It’s beautiful, even overrun with trolls and beasts. </p>
<p>It’s weird, yes, seeing her friends without them being able to see her. They toy with the non-mages a little on the first day of their reunion, because being dead doesn’t mean she can’t still have fun. </p>
<p>But it’s not her desire for fun or for exploration that keep her here. She’s here to help her stupid brother and her stupid cousin. Onni, he’s going to take a lot of help.</p>
<p>Lalli, maybe not so much. She’s only been gone a few months, but he’s grown so much. She sees it in the way he listens to the others now, and sometimes speaks up in slow, precise Finnish or in his halting Swedish, to answer them. She sees him not bristle so much when they touch him, and she sees him draw nearer unbidden, choosing to be closer by when he could isolate himself.</p>
<p>She sees, and she teases him ruthlessly. </p>
<p>“So what’s this I hear about you moving to Sweden?” She flies about his head while he scouts ahead for a safe path forward. He’d grumbled for a bit about how he couldn’t afford distractions, but he’s still reeling from the fact that she’s <i>here</i>, so of course she’d won out.</p>
<p>“Says who? I might have to stay here and babysit idiot Onni.” They both make a face. Stupid Onni, running off on his own to get killed. Tuuri and Lalli may not agree about much, but they are absolutely in agreement about how much trouble Onni is in.</p>
<p>“Yes, <i>now</i> you do, but after we get that solved. I heard you two dream together. Reynir told me. I didn’t know non-mages could do that.”</p>
<p>Lalli looks up at her like he’s going to tell her to shut up, but seeing her translucent spirit form must remind him that he lost her, and it tempers his anger. He pouts and keeps moving ahead.</p>
<p>“Come on, don’t be mad! It’s good that you have a friend. He is your friend, isn’t he?”</p>
<p>Lalli’s hood bobs up and down in a nod. A bird beak can’t smirk, but Tuuri makes a valiant effort all the same.</p>
<p>“Maybe a little <i>more</i> than that?”</p>
<p>A rock goes soaring through her spirit form, and she squawks. “Don’t do that! It feels weird!”</p>
<p>Lalli keeps moving at a pace that would have left her huffing and puffing if she were still alive. Her little bird wings soar with ease to close the distance. She lands on his shoulder and bumps her head against his chin.</p>
<p>“Alright, I won’t tease. I like him, you know. He’s good for you. Even if he is short. Have you checked how many toes he has? I’m not convinced that Taru researched that properly.”</p>
<p>She chatters on, and Lalli lets her. It’s familiar, like old times on Keuruu. She thinks he may be tuning her out completely, except that eventually, when she pauses between tangents, he speaks up.</p>
<p>“…Maybe I do. Like him… A little.”</p>
<p>Tuuri’s squeal is higher-pitched than she could have managed in life, and both Hotakainens wince. Oops! It’s just… for Lalli, that’s basically an admission of love! </p>
<p>“Sorry! Have fun scouting, I need to go have Onni help me interrogate my future brother in law! Byeeeee!”</p>
<p>Lalli howls after her like an angry cat, but for the first time in their lives, she’s the faster of the two. And there’s still scouting to do, and she knows her cousin is too proud and too stubborn to abandon his duty just to chase after her. She’ll have to be quick about it, and it’s going to take some clever thinking and probably some phonetic coaching to get her questions across, but she’s dealt with the language barriers before. She can’t stay on this plane forever, and in the time she’s got left, she’s going to make sure she’s leaving her cousin in good hands. Good, short, perfect-hair-having hands. (And probably the right amount of toes.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Unbetaed, and I don't have the language skills to even attempt at adding any Finnish or Swedish in. </p>
<p>I marathoned this comic in the last two days and just needed to get this fic out of my head. I may come back and add more if inspiration strikes in future chapters of the comic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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